


you win or you covfefe

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Series: jonsa countdown 2017 [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Covfefe, F/M, Jonsa Countdown, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: Joffrey Baratheon makes a confusing tweet. The Stark/Snow family begins a journey.(written for day thirteen of the jonsa countdown - politics)





	you win or you covfefe

**Author's Note:**

> I hope nobody murders me for this?

“Do you see this bullshit?” Jon asks, shoving his phone in front of Sansa’s face. She squints and rubs her eyes.

“I’m not wearing my contacts. Read it for me.”

“At 12:06 this morning, @.realJoffreyBaratheon tweeted: ‘Despite the constant negative press covfefe’,” says Jon, growling through the words.

“Is that it?” she asks, waiting for more.

“That’s it.”

“Oh my god. No wonder he lost the popular vote,” she says, turning back to the bathroom mirror to finish pinning her hair in a neat bun. Jon continues scrolling through the news on his phone, having already dressed in his best suit and tie.

More headlines catch his eye. _President Joffrey Baratheon announces re-election run. Will Democratic Leader Davos Seaworth retire? Secretary of State Tyrion Lannister meets with Meereenese Prime Minister Daenerys Targaryen. Republican candidates now include Senator Euron Greyjoy and Representative Petyr Baelish. Former President Eddard Stark speaks out against Joffrey Baratheon’s policies._

“Looks like your dad’s pissed with Joffrey again,” says Jon, scanning an article.

“When isn’t he? The only reason Joffrey’s president is because Dad couldn’t run for a third term,” says Sansa. “And the electoral college.” She finishes with her hair and scrutinizes her appearance. Jon leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t worry so much. I’ve got your back.”

Sansa flashes her stunning smile.

“Is the camera crew finished setting up downstairs?”

“Yep. Your throne awaits, mi’lady,” he says with a bow. She giggles and rolls her eyes and she walks out of the bathroom. Down in the living room, a small camera crew has arranged the living room with lights. Sansa takes a seat in an armchair they’d gotten as an anniversary gift from her mother.

“The prompter is to the left, Ms. Stark. You can start whenever you’re ready,” the director says.

She looks at ease as a politician, which is no easy feat. Everyone had noticed how Ned Stark’s hair went from light brown to grey during his eight years in office. Jon reminds himself to focus on his wife.

“... and I’m proud to announce that I, Sansa Stark, will be running for the office of President of Westeros. It’s time to unite this country around our common values of equality, acceptance, and love.”

“And cut!” says the director. “Congratulations, Ms. Stark!”

Sansa blushes and looks over to Jon, who’s beaming from ear to ear. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, except much more professional (and sexy). In fact, if she weren’t wearing her favorite pantsuit and standing in the midst of several camera crew members, she’d tear off her clothes have him right over there on the dining room table.

“Think I’ve got a chance?” she asks, standing up and brushing off her pantsuit.

“Against Joffrey Baratheon? This time next year, I’ll be calling you Madam President,” he says,

“President Sansa Stark. It’s got a ring to it.”

“I still wish I could call you President Sansa Snow,” he mutters. She offers an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Dad thought using Stark would be good for the campaign,” she says. Jon can’t argue with that logic. She pulls out her phone and checks her notifications.

“Alright. We’ve got a charity event at Saint Alysanne Memorial Hospital, a meeting with my financial advisors, and then dinner with Robb and Dad at seven. You with me?”

He takes her hand and presses a kiss against her knuckles. “Always, love.”

_bonus, several hours later at dinner_

“What does it even mean?” Ned asks, groaning and rubbing his temple.

“I literally have no clue, Dad,” says Sansa, taking a bite of her filet mignon. Robb’s eyebrows furrow together.

_“Covfefe,”_  he whispers, as if he’s trying to make sense of it - which no one ever will. 


End file.
